


a little closer to you

by queerofcups



Series: fic advent 2017 [5]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-02-11 05:46:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12928776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queerofcups/pseuds/queerofcups
Summary: Timestamp for with plans, with you





	a little closer to you

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [with plans, with you](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9651731) by [queerofcups](https://archiveofourown.org/users/queerofcups/pseuds/queerofcups). 



> For the prompt "anything anything at all in the world of with plans with you"  
> Title is from Joy Again's How You Feel  
> I reckon this is two or three years after the initial fic

It's freezing in the hallway outside of the apartment, so cold Dan can see his breath against the black door.

He slides his key into the lock, trying to turn the lock slow so it’ll hopefully be more quiet. It's not, really, the heavy lock mechanism thunking open.

He curses to himself and leans down to pick up his duffle bag, opening the door to the apartment.

It’s not much warmer inside, but it's familiar and familiarity is all he could possible want after three months over seas.

Phil’s changed the layout around. It’s not immediately noticeable in the half-light of the not quite morning, but he nearly eats it when his foot bumps catches on an end table when he’s turning to lock the door behind him.

He drops his bag by the door and reaches a hand out, trying to walk carefully through the dark room toward the bedroom.

He technically lives here now.

Phil had paid those medium size journalist bucks to have all of the last of Dan’s shit moved here while he was on tour and he lives here now. Even if he’d yet to actually spend a full week here and was in danger of tripping over a pile of papers, or a computer, or a pet at any moment.

He toes his shoes off and peels off his coat and drops it on the loveseat. He’s allowed, this is his flat. Technically.

He steps softly across the apartment, pushing open the half-closed bedroom door and slipping in.

It’s warmer than the rest of the drafty apartment, a small space heater humming pleasantly, pumping hot air into the room.

In the middle of the room is a bed, and in the middle of the bed is a person shaped lump.

Dan takes stock of Phil, hidden under the covers and does a quick risk/reward equation in his head before opting to taking a running leap at the bed, landing directly on top of Phil.

He’s still cackling when Phil squawks, flailing and turning over, unwrapping the blanket he’s burritoed himself into.

“Your face,” Dan says, holding his stomach, “I’m not even sorry, it was all worth it.”

“You’ve killed me,” Phil says, still clutching his chest. “I’ve died of shock and you’re going to have to pay my family restitution.”

“Restitution smeshtitution,” Dan says, “It’s the most wonderful time of the year.”

“Father’s Day?” Phil asks, sitting up to look at Dan. He’s been sleeping in a a Men for Miles shirt. Dan pretends he doesn’t notice the warmth that springs up in his chest.

“What?” Dan asks. “No, it's December.”

“In Thailand,” Phil says, offering no further explanation. “What day is it?”

“It's the beginning of the Best of the Year Lists!” Dan says. “You should definitely know this. No one asked for your opinion?”

Phil rolls his eyes and Dan simpers at him, “Oh poor Phil, you date one rock star and you’re suddenly nothing more than a groupie.”

“Ew,” Phil says, shoving Dan. “Groupies have important opinions. Come here, I haven’t seen you in months, why are you talking about work?”

“Because,” Dan says, sitting up and complying as Phil tugs off his jumper. “Men for Miles got named one of the best band of 2017 in not one but three publications. We got named number 3 in one of them.”

Phil’s mouth twitches up.

Dan’s eyes narrow.   
“Are you laughing at us?” Dan asks, poking Phil in the side until he squeaks. “Is number 3 not good enough for you.”

“Nooo,” Phil says, trying and failing to roll away. Dan rolls with, then on top of, him. “We just finalized our list. You’ll be happy with the results.”

Dan stares down at him. Phil stares back.

“Shut up,” Dan says, Phil grins. “Shut up.”

“I’m not talking!” Phil argues, fitting his hands over Dan’s hips.

“Number one?” Dan asks. Quietly, like if he asks too loudly it’ll be too much like hope to be squashed.

“Album and artist,” Phil confirms. “Men for Miles. The little definitely-not-queercore band that could. The very opposite of a sophomore slump.”

Dan’s certain his new neighbors are going to hate him and all the screaming he’s doing, but it doesn’t stop him from throwing back his head and laughing, bouncing a little.

Phil’s smiling up at him, eyes crinkled, tongue between his teeth.

Dan leans down to kiss him, between kisses asks, “I gotta go call the others. But this is nepotism, right? You definitely influenced the vote.”

Phil shakes his head, “Never ever. This is all yours, Dan. You and Alex and Milo and Kashiff. You did this.”

“This is going to be a collector’s item soon,” Dan says, plucking at Phil’s shirt. “Multiplatinum pop punk band Men for Miles vintage merch.”


End file.
